Robert gaped. “You wish me to workunderHampson? Under your servant? I am the second son of Summerset. If I decide to dirty my hands in business, it will at least be as the man-in-charge.”
John chuckled, although there was no humor behind it. “You truly are an insufferable prat. You think birth gives you any claim to importance? I trust Hampson. He is a smart man who has proved himself time and again. You have done nothing but fail. If you want me to pay off this last debt and recover your estate, you will do what I say. You’ve gone too far this time.”
“You would know all about going too far.”
They glared at each other, the room becoming thick with memories.
“I will say this for the last time,” John said quietly. “I am sorry for the hurt I caused you. If I could take it back, if I could be the one to have mixed those chemicals and suffered the explosion, I would. But what is done cannot be undone. And having scars on your face doesn’t give you leave to act an arsehole.”
John dug his fingertips into his hips. He’d been so sure of his calculations. Certain the mixture would be stable. He hadn’t thought twice about directing his younger brother, his assistant, to concoct the new mixture of gunpowder.
The dreadful irony of it sucked the breath from John’s lungs. The British government had bought barrel after barrel of his new gunpowder because of its stability. The soldiers in the field had a better chance of avoiding misfires because of the new formula he’d developed.
And because of one dropped decimal point, that extremely stable gunpowder had exploded in his brother’s face.
It should have been John with the scars. John with the months of agonizing pain. But he couldn’t let that excuse his brother’s behavior, not any longer. “You’ve thrown away not only your future, but mine and all the future heirs of Summerset.” He shook his head. “How dare you.”
Robert dropped his chin to his chest. “I should have won. I’m a better player than he is.”
“Hazard is a game of chance. There are no better players.”
“There is skill in calculating the odds of the roll.”
John kept his gaze level on his brother, not trusting himself to respond to that drivel.
Robert cleared his throat. “Do you think you can get the deed back? Our brother has inquired about visiting me at Crowhaven. He will be disappointed if he finds out it’s gone.”
Their youngest brother would be disappointed Robert was gambling. Kevin was studying to be a clergyman, and detested that sin more so than John. He had much love and charity in his heart, an amazing feat considering the family he’d been raised in, but even that charity would have its limits. Watching Robert devolve into the same profligacy as their father would break his heart.
John turned to stare out the window. “I will get it back. I promise you.”
Robert gathered some of his old haughtiness about him. “Of course. My brother not only is the genius who saved the earldom from financial ruin, but he is also a great spy. No trial is too great for you.”
“A fact for which you should be grateful.” John rubbed his eyes. His anger was spent and fatigue tugged at him. That nap he’d recommended for Netta would serve him well also.
Christ, hewasgetting old. First sending Netta to bed and now himself.
He pursed his lips. Although, taking a napwithNetta sounded like a fine idea. Her plump little body nestled tight against his. Her mess of curls tickling his chin.
Such a nap wouldn’t garner him much rest, but it would be delightful.
“Go,” he told his brother. It was time to tuck his brother away. At Stonesworth, not only would he remain safe, but he wouldn’t be able to cause too many new problems. “Go pack. My driver will pick you up tomorrow morning. And you will stay at the estate until I tell you otherwise.”
Robert sketched a deep bow. “Of course, my lord. Your word is my command.”
It hadn’t been in the past, but it damn well would be now. No more coddling. It was time his brother stopped using an injury as an excuse to ruin the rest of his life. “You jest, but let this be a reminder. The consequence of birth seems to hold import to you. Since that is the case, remember you are a second son.”
John stalked forward until they stood eye to eye, chest to chest, and pounded the point home. “You have nothing but what I give you.”
Chapter Eight
Netta peeled off the wax nose. She loved wearing a costume, but she couldn’t deny the relief when she washed off the heavy makeup of the theatre.
“What happened to you zis evening?” Cerise floated into their changing room, her long, frothy gown billowing out around her ankles, making it look as though she walked on air. The remnants of her French heritage lingered in her words. “You missed one of your lines.”
Netta blew out her cheeks and stared at herself in the mirror. “I know. The audience didn’t notice, did they?”
“Harold covered it well.” Cerise pulled off her wig of long blond hair and turned her back to Netta. “Help me from zis, would you?”
